


anyone at all (i'm so glad that it's you)

by jareddunn (nondisclosure)



Category: Silicon Valley (TV)
Genre: Enemies to Lovers, M/M, You've Got Mail AU, but like not really, ill update these as we go along, maybe like enemies while secret lovers, richard says fuck a lot, uhhh
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-21
Updated: 2020-09-21
Packaged: 2021-03-07 23:20:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,282
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26575900
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nondisclosure/pseuds/jareddunn
Summary: Dear Friend,I like to start my notes to you like we are already in the middle of a conversation. I pretend we are the oldest and dearest friends as opposed to what we actually are, people who don’t know each other's names and met anonymously online. What will he say today? I wonder. I turn on my computer. I hold my cup of tea close to my chest, though my heart is already warm with the knowledge that I get to converse with you. I revel in these silent moments with you, office quiet before everyone gets here. I hear nothing, just the beat of my own heart as I open your message.or, a you've got mail au where jared still works for Hooli and is trying to destroy pied piper while he and richard fall in love anonymously
Relationships: Jared Dunn/Richard Hendricks
Comments: 7
Kudos: 17





	anyone at all (i'm so glad that it's you)

**Author's Note:**

> um a couple things
> 
> 1) this takes place during s2 basically 
> 
> 2) the timeline is gonna be a little wonky bc I'm trying to make things fit better into the storyline lol 
> 
> 3) idk how things like "going to market" or "CES" or "lawsuits" work I'm a liberal arts student so bare with me i promise i am trying my best

## Fall

Richard watches the cursor on his screen blink at him. He’s got the doors locked, the covers over his head, and his screen brightness almost all the way down. He knows that Dinesh and Gilfoyle have both gone to bed, Erlich passed out from his own high hours ago, but he can’t be too careful. If they knew what he was doing they would never let him live it down. 

It wasn’t particularly embarrassing that he met someone online (though he’s sure they would make him feel embarrassed about it because everything he does is embarrassing) but he wasn’t looking forward to having to explain to them that 1) he was into men 2) he had met a man online 3) he had no clue who this man is, what he looked like, or even a real name for him and 4) which is definitely the most embarrassing part, that he had met him on a _Firefly_ subreddit about shipping Wash and Zoë. He could never let them find out that last one. 

So he does this every night: he makes sure everyone has gone to bed, he locks his bedroom door (making sure the shove a chair under the knob just incase the shitty lock doesn’t hold), turns off all his lights, shoves his comforter over his head, opens an incognito window, and then checks to see if he has any need messages from donaldduck85. 

He doesn’t have a real name for donaldduck85. He knows the user comes from the cartoon character, but when he thinks about him — and, god, does he think about him — he can’t help thinking of the name Donald fondly. He doesn’t know anything superficial about him. That’s one of their rules. No names, no job titles, no physical descriptors, nothing that would help him figure out who Donald is in real life. The only true physical attribute he’s sure about is that he’s a man (and sometimes the way Donald talked made Richard get a little unsure about that). 

It’s been three months of this. Three months of waiting all day to do his nightly routine. Three months of spending almost every waking moment worrying about Pied Piper, living for the smallest moment of happiness when he gets to read Donald’s message at night. 

He knows before he even opens his laptop that he’ll have a message — in the three months that they’ve been talking, Donald had only missed one night to which he had apologized profusely — but he still feels his heart start to race in anticipation and nerves. He doesn’t know why he gets nervous talking to Donald. There were no consequences, no fear of rejection; Donald liked talking to him, liked hearing his thoughts and opinions, and Richard never had to worry about if his hair looked out of control, or if his lips were pressed in that tight line, or if he was sweating too much. None of that mattered, the only thing Donald cared about was Richard’s mind. 

He logs into his account, heart racing when he sees the little notification. Part of the reason he only allows himself to check this at night is that he knows if he saw that notification at any time during the day he would no longer have any semblance of self control, mind consumed with thinking about what Donald has said. It was too big of a risk, he needed to only be thinking about Pied Piper during the day. But right now, in these little moments, the only thing on his mind is Donald. 

He takes a breath, opening the new message: 

_Dear Friend,_

_I like to start my notes to you like we are already in the middle of a conversation. I pretend we are the oldest and dearest friends as opposed to what we actually are, people who don’t know each other's names and met anonymously online. What will he say today? I wonder. I turn on my computer. I hold my cup of tea close to my chest, though my heart is already warm with the knowledge that I get to converse with you. I revel in these silent moments with you, office quiet before everyone gets here. I hear nothing, just the beat of my own heart as I open your message._

_The leaves are starting to change. I’ve always loved the fall. Reminds me of new beginnings, of fresh tea, and warm spices. Of going back to school. I always loved school. I wasn’t ever exceedingly popular, quite the opposite really, but it remained such a wonderful escape for me, especially college. I loved losing myself between the pages of a wonderful book, pretending to go on heroic quests or feeling the bonds of familial love. I would spend hours with my nose stuck in a book. The fall always makes me want to buy school supplies. If I knew your name and address, I would send you a bouquet of freshly sharpened pencils._

Richard’s lip catches between his teeth as he reads the message, and then re-reads the message. He files the little slices of past life Donald tells him away, revels in having them. Richard thinks that might be part of the fun in this — getting to figure out Donald just by the tiny parts he shows to Richard. He always liked puzzles, figuring out problems step by step until he creates something new. It excites him to get to do this with Donald. 

He writes back right away despite knowing Donald won’t open it until the morning. He tells him how he thinks fall is the perfect season — winters always too severe for him back home and summers here too hot to ever leave the comfort of an air conditioned room — he tells him about how he never enjoyed schooling despite his voracious need to learn, unable to focus on subjects that didn’t interest him and obsession over subjects that did. He leaves out that’s how he taught himself how to code. That’s too close to their rules. 

He thinks about what Donald wrote as he tries to sleep. He’s done the ending part of his ritual — logging out of his account after double checking his message sent, closing out of the window, and wiping his browser history even though he used a private browser and uses a VPN. He thinks of himself in high school — gawky and awkward, eating lunch in the AV room with Bighead to avoid the people in the cafeteria, spending most of his time playing video games and jerking off. He wonders if he and Donald would be friends, if they would eat lunch together in the library, if he would let him kiss him behind the gym. He falls asleep smiling thinking about it. 

///

It’s going to be a long day — Jared can already feel it. Gavin had come in a fury, slamming doors and mumbling angrily about Pied Piper and nucleus. He storms into Jared’s office, demanding Jared follow him to his own to discuss the “little Hendricks prick.” 

Oh, he had had such a nice morning, too. He had seen a meadowlark on his walk into the office, he had an email from his friend Gloria asking to get brunch this weekend with her and her granddaughter, his tea had been just right, and he had a new message from his anonymous online penpal. _Bitchierich_. He had taken to calling him just simply “Rich” in his own head, which he assumes is short for Richard despite reminding himself what assuming can make a person into. Richard. Such a stately name. A little common, but no less strong. A brave leader. Someone you could follow into battle. He secretly hopes his assumptions are true. 

He had reread that mornings message, as he usually did, three times:

_(I think Starbucks was designed to make people feel more powerful than they really are. I mean think about it. You have to make so many decisions before you can even pay. Size: do you want a small, medium, or large, but you can’t call it those names you have to know their ridiculous names. Hot or iced or frozen? What kind of roast? Caffeine or decaf (which I truly do not see any point of what are you drinking this for, the taste? No.) What flavor if you even want a flavor? Cream, milk which you aren’t supposed to drink anymore, almond milk which you aren’t supposed to drink anymore, or oat milk which tastes like shit? Low-fat, no-fat, skinny? Extra shot?_

_When did it get so complicated to just get a cup of coffee? They’ve turned something that was once so so simple into a nerve racking experience where the people who are good at decision making rule over all the world and get more power than they need, all for the cheap price of $4. I am not a good decision maker. To be honest, I fucking suck at it. Having to make big decisions sends me right into a panic induced vomiting episode. I keep my coffee order simple, black with room for me to decide on my own terms how much cream and sugar to put in, and I get to leave knowing that I have cheated the sense of power play which in of itself gives me an inflated ego all day.)_

He had found that Rich either had very strong opinions on subjects, or none at all. There was no halfway with him. Jared liked that. He liked a lot of things about Rich. He liked how he knew odd little facts about history, how he was prone to rambling when he was talking about something he was passionate about, how smart he was, gosh Rich was _so_ smart, how he never seemed off-put by the things Jared said that usually freaked people out. Mostly, he liked that he had a connection with Rich that was completely devoid of superficiality.

Jared knew he wasn’t everyone’s ideal level of attraction, and though he did fine in his dating life when he was able to, he found it hard to find a genuine connection with someone liked he had always dreamed he would. He knew he was one to overly romanticize things and get thoroughly disappointed when people didn’t live up to the picture he had built up in his head, but he couldn’t help it. Perhaps it was the overexposure to the Julia Roberts romance canon, but he had always wanted a storybook romance; a connection that overpowered him, that made him want to run through an airport or climb a fire escape with roses in the rain. He wanted someone to bring color back into the grayscale life he was living. Rich made him feel like maybe that was possible for him. 

He had been so proud to work at Hooli when he had first started. He was stunned by Gavin Belson, believing every word that came out of his mouth about saving humanity and making the world a better place. He had followed every order Gavin gave him, sacrificing his own morals and his own pride for who he thought was a fearless leader piloting him in pursuit of the greater good. He had suffered through abuse after abuse, whittling down at his dignity until there was nothing left but a hollow soulless yes man in a blazer tearing down the little guy to hoist Gavin up. 

His phone starts vibrating on his desk — Gavin screaming at him through texts because Jared still wasn’t in his office. He sighs, setting his tea down and shutting his laptop, his message to Rich will just have to wait. He had a different Richard to worry about. 

Gavin is already pacing when Jared gets to his office, “Where the fuck have you been?” he demands when his secretary lets Jared in. 

“I apologize for my tardiness, Gavin, there was a pressing matter.” Jared shrinks in on himself, bending his spine to make himself seem smaller, averting his eyes. 

“The only pressing matter that you should be working on is destroying that fucking little asshole Richard Hendricks and Pied Piper. Where are we with demolishing them?” 

“The lawsuit will be sent to his lawyer later today.” 

“Good. Good. And we’re going to win? That little turd Hendricks will be buried, correct?” Gavin says, pointing his finger at Jared in a way that Jared knows means that if it doesn’t happen he will hold Jared personally responsible. 

“Well I can’t gu—” 

“Excuse me? You can’t what? Will he or won’t be dealt with?” Gavin interrupts him, pushing into Jared’s space. Jared knew realistically he had a solid four or five inches of height on him, but when he was like this it seemed like Gavin loomed over him. 

“He’ll be dealt with.” 

Gavin backed off slightly, but still glared at him as he smiled condescendingly. “Good. I want this done, Jared. I want him eviscerated.” 

“I know, Gavin.” 

Gavin sat down behind his desk, shooing Jared out with a flick of his hand. Jared nodded, moving out of the office as quick as he could. Gavin’s secretary gave him a pity smile on his way to the elevator, knowing exactly what it was like to be on the brunt of Gavin’s cruelty. 

The truth was, he was secretly hoping Richard Hendricks beat Gavin. He thought about the conviction, the bravery, Richard had shown turning down Gavin. Richard wanted to build something with his own two hands, wanted to truly change the world. Jared wished he had the courage to say no to Gavin. 

He thinks everyday how different his life would be if he had quit that day and walked out to join Pied Piper. He had been so close. He’d unfortunately been the one to have to break the news to Gavin that Richard had turned them down in favor of Peter Gregory, and thus had been the ultimate victim of Gavin’s meltdown. He had walked straight out of the office — dead set on leaving for good — got a bottle of champagne, and drove to the house listed in Richard Hendricks file. He sat in the car for almost an hour before turning back around without ever knocking on the door. 

He’d been so close to leaving Hooli and Gavin behind and joining Richard, helping bring Pied Piper to the world. Instead, he was in charge of destroying it. 

////

Richard was whistling. He was fucking whistling some dumb song he had heard in the grocery store when he went to get another case of redbull. He couldn’t help it. He was fucking _happy._ More than happy. He was _ecstatic_. Down right joyful. 

He doesn’t think he’s ever been this happy since he was like a fucking kid. Maybe not even then. He had shattered the theoretical limit to happiness. Pied Piper was still the talk of the down, VCs beating down his door to invest, Raviga had a term sheet for him to sign tomorrow, he was the fucking CEO of his own company doing work that could change the fucking world with his friends, and he had Donald. For once in his fucking life everything was _good._

Bighead is staring at him as he makes himself some pop-tarts, still whistling. “You’re in a good mood.” 

Richard shrugs, smiling. “Guess I am.” 

“I’ve never seen you this happy,” Bighead says, chewing on a cheese-it. “Did you meet someone?” 

“Can’t I just be happy that things with Pied Piper are going good?” 

“I mean I guess. But I don’t know, man, this feels different.” 

Richard chews on his lip, looking around the corner to make sure the living room is empty. He could tell Bighead, he was his best friend, right? Best friends tell each other when they meet someone, and there is only like a 5% chance Bighead will make fun of him for this — he’s seen Richard do way more embarrassing things than this. It’ll be good to have someone to talk to about Donald. “You can’t tell any of the other guys.” 

“Oh, I don’t know if I can promise that. I forget sometimes what’s supposed to be a secret.” 

Richard sighs, “Bighead.” 

“Okay I’ll write it on a post it or something.” 

Richard looks around the corner again, double checking that there was no one else in the house. “I met someone online.” 

“Oh cool what’s her name?”

“Oh, um —” How does he explain this without sounding like an insane person? “I don’t really know his name? I, uh, it’s all anonymous? Like, to be honest, I’m not 100% sure he’s a man. Like I’m 98% sure he is, but you know can you ever be 100%?” Richard jokes, wringing his hands together. 

“Have you had sex?” 

Richard sputters, gawking at Bighead. “No! No, it’s not — I don’t even know him how —”

“Like cybersex or sexting or whatever. Is it like an onlyfans thing?” Bighead asks. 

“No! Stop it, it’s — it’s not like that we just…talk. We just talk.” 

“About what?”

“You know, just like books and tv — this and that — bouquets of sharpened pencils,” Richard whispers at the end of the sentence, smiling down at his shoes. 

“Huh?” 

“Forget it,” Richard says, sighing. “It doesn’t matter. I’m probably never going to meet him in person. We don’t share anything personal. I don’t know his name, what he does, what he looks like.” 

“That’s a little weird. He could be anyone. He could be Gilfoyle,” Bighead says, laughing. 

Richard’s head snaps up, “Don’t joke like that, man. Gilfoyle, Dinesh, Erlich, fuck even Monica — they can not know, I would never live it down if they found out.”

“Okay, geez, sorry. I won’t tell anyone.”

“Th—” Richard’s phone buzzes in his hand, stopping him. “Oh, fuck. Oh, _fuck._ What the fuck?!”

“What, dude? Is that him? Did he dump you?” 

“What? No, fuck, no it’s Ron LaFlamme. Fucking Gavin Belson and Hooli are suing me for intellectual property? What the _fuck?_ I gotta — I gotta go.” 

Ron is annoyingly indifferent to his situation, strumming mindlessly at his guitar while Richard paces his office, pulling at his hair. 

“I mean? Like does he have any case here? He can’t have a case here. I fucking invented Pied Piper. I came up with middle-out. It’s my fucking algorithm. How can he just fucking say that it’s his? I mean it’s fucking _insane_ ,” Richard rants, smoothing his hair down to just pull it into odd angles again. 

“Richie, will you please sit down?” Ron says, kicking out the chair on the opposite side of the desk. Richard sighs, flopping down in the chair. “Now. Was Pied Piper related to anything you were doing at Hooli?” 

“No. No, they had me doing like quality assurance. They didn’t even have a fucking compression divison when I worked there.”

“And you’re sure you never worked on Pied Piper on Hooli time or using Hooli equipment. And be honest with me, Richie.” 

“No, and no.” 

Ron puts down his guitar, nodding. He smiles up at Richard, throwing the paperwork across the desk. “Good. And by the way, always tell me that...And tell yourself that. If you believe it, then a jury will, too.”

Richard squints, tilting his head, confused. “Wha — what do you mean? I do believe it. It’s the truth?” 

“Great!” Ron exclaims, pointing at Richard. “That one was even better. I love it. Always say it exactly like that.”

Richard sighs, running his hands down his face. “We — we’re going to win this, right?”

“Richie,” Ron says, confidently looking Richard right in the eyes in a way that makes him squirm. “If what you just told me is the truth — and do not tell me if you lied — then you have nothing to worry about. This is an intimidation technique, a stalling tactic that tells me that Gavin knows his tech is lagging behind yours and is looking for any way to catch up and freeze you until nucleus comes to market. We will win this.” 

“Good,” Richard breathes out, relieved, slumping back against the back of the chair 

“But you need to lawyer up —”

“Aren’t you our lawyer?” Richard asks, cutting off Ron. 

“I’m not a litigator. You need to hire one soon and get this taken care of. And if I was you I would get that Raviga term sheet signed sooner rather than later.” 

“What? Wh—” Richard’s phone rings in his pocket, cutting him off, Monica’s name flashing on the screen. “It’s Monica right now.” 

Ron motions for him to take it and Richard answers Monica’s call, chewing on his lip. “Richard, you need to get down here now.” 

Monica is chain smoking outside of the Raviga building when Richard finds her. She’s got on a bulky white sweater that is making her itch her neck. “You smoke?” 

“Only when I’m stressed,” Monica sighs, crushing the butt of her cigarette with the toe of her heel. “Richard...we’re out.” 

“Out of what?” Richard asks, confused.

“Out of Pied Piper. We’re pulling our funding,” she says, not looking him in the eye. 

“Wh— I don’t — you’re out? What the fuck does that mean, Monica?” 

“I’m so sorry, Richard. Things are just — Laurie doesn’t want the risk that comes with funding a start-up that is in a legal battle with Gavin Belson. We can’t take the chance that we could become entangled in the lawsuit on top of the financial risk. I’m so sorry.” 

“Oh, great, that’s fucking great, Monica. You’re pulling all our funding, but it’s fine because you’re _sorry_ . You know, the whole point in going with you and Raviga was because we _trusted you._ God, Monica, what the fuck? _”_

“Richard, there are still plenty of good VCs out there that want to fund you, you’ll find somebody else.” 

“We don’t want someone else, Monica. We wanted you guys and you fucked us.”

“This wasn’t my decision, Richard,” Monica pleads, lighting another cigarette. “I tried to fight for you, but Laurie wasn’t interested in hearing it. 

Richard groans, kicking the wall of the building, wincing in pain when his flimsy sneaker does nothing to absorb the shock. “ _Fuck.”_

“Are you alright?” Monica asks, taking a step toward him. Richard takes a step backwards. 

“I’m fine. I gotta go,” Richard says, limping a little when he tries to walk away. 

“Richard, just —”

“Just what?” Richard asks, turning back to face Monica. 

“Try to close as fast as you can.” 

////

Jared gets the Google Alert as soon as Wired posts the story. Gavin’s gone public with the fact that Hooli is suing Pied Piper. He reads the article, chewing on his lip. Gavin had been merciless, tearing apart Pied Piper, calling Richard a penniless thief trying to chase glory with stolen Hooli secret IP. It was so crass, so vulgar, Jared could barely believe he had ever seen any good in Gavin. 

Jared knows exactly what a lawsuit like this will do to Pied Piper — he’s done it to multiple young startups in the past. With Gavin’s presence looming over them, no respectable VC in the Valley will fund them. If they do somehow manage to get funding, the lawsuit will either stall them enough for Nucleus to get to market first, or, if the suit actually gets taken to court — and he’s sure this is what Gavin truly wants — will force Richard to hand over all his work for nothing. It’s cruelty, and Gavin will stop at nothing until Richard Hendricks is a bug squashed beneath his loafer. 

Sometimes Jared thinks Gavin cares more about crushing Richard for saying no to him than he does about nucleus being successful. 

But Jared cares. He still wants to help people, change the world for the better even by just a little bit. He’s trained himself long ago to try his absolute hardest to find the optimistic side to any situation he finds himself in, and this is no different. He still holds on to the small glowing hope inside his chest that he can make a difference here. If he has to aid in the destruction of something he wants to be able to put something good back into the world in it’s ashes. He believes that Nucleus will help people, he has to believe that.

He closes the tab with Gavin’s article and opens back up the message he got from Rich that morning. Gavin had thrown himself into such a fit that he’d needed a spiritual healing session, leaving the office completely, giving Jared the rare ability to actually have a lunch break to himself. He usually finds it deplorable to spend company time on personal matters, but he finds himself in kind of a rebellious mood so he takes an extra ten minutes on his lunch break to reply to Rich. 

////

It’s official, he’s fucked. He’s royally and completely fucked. 

He and Erlich had gone back to every VC they had met with over the summer, and with the shadow of Gavin fucking Belson casting over them (plus the added lasting impact of Erlich being a complete and total asswad) no one wanted to fund them. No one wanted to go against the mighty Goliath Hooli, 5.2 Weissman score be damned. 

He’s out of options. With the original 200k plus the 50k from TechCrunch, they don’t have nearly enough money to stay afloat, let alone get them to market before Hooli. They definitely didn’t have enough money to take Hooli to fucking court. 

Gilfoyle and Dinesh are watching him pace the room, muttering to himself. He pulls the sides of his hoodie tighter around him. 

“I mean, fuck, guys what are we going to do?” he says finally to them, but they just continue to look at him with blank stares. 

“Richard...You are a lone reed,” Erlich cuts in, breathing out smoke. “You are a lone reed standing tall, waving boldly in the corrupt sands of commerce." 

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Erlich takes another hit from his bong before erupting into laughter at Richard’s exasperated look. “Right, great, _thanks._ Once again, none of you are any fucking help.” 

He storms off into his room, climbing into his bunk bed shoes still on. He skips his usual routine — none of the guys will come after him when he’s like this. He needs a moment of peace, he needs to hear from Donald.

He takes a deep breath of relief when he sees the little notification — a small beacon of light shining through the shit that just keeps piling on top of him. 

_Dear Friend,_

_Oh, it’s been a long morning. I don’t like to complain, but, gosh has it been a long morning._

_Sometimes I wonder about my life. I’ve worked very, very hard to build my life. It’s a small life, insignificant in the grand scheme of things, but it was mine. I look around at who I am, who I’ve become, and I don’t know if I like what I see. I keep having to tell myself that what I’m doing is for the greater good, but I don’t know if I truly believe that anymore. And, yet, I can’t bring myself to leave._

_I’ve always been told that I was brave. The CPS workers, the teachers, the counselors, the therapists_ — _they’ve always said I was brave. I don’t feel brave right now. I fear sometimes that I’ve used up all my courage, that I have gotten too comfortable in this life that I’ve built and it’s taken away my ability to be brave. I worry if I truly believe that what I am doing will make for a better world, or if I’m lying to myself because I can no longer be brave._

_I don’t really want an answer. I just want to send this cosmic question out into the void._

_So, goodnight dear void. Be brave._

His phone vibrates from the spot against the wall he had thrown it to, making him jump. He looks at Donald’s message for another moment before groaning and grabbing his phone. What more could possibly fucking happen to him today? 

////

Richard comes into the restaurant with his head low and a green hoodie wrapped tight around him. Jared had hoped that when Gavin had called him to tell him what he was planning to do that he wouldn’t make Jared tag along. But here he was, smashed up against the wall of a Tex Mex restaurant. 

Gavin is halfway through a margarita, picking at the fruit Jared knows he brought from home, when Richard slides into the other side of the booth. “Ah, Richard, how nice of you to join us. You remember Jared?” 

Richard chews on his lip, nodding. Jared can see him shifting in his seat. 

“It’s nice to see you again, Richard,” Jared says, doing his best to make the smile he gives him look reassuring. Richard remains silent, drumming his fingers against the table. 

Gavin clears his throat, smiling slightly. “Richard, I asked you to meet me here tonight because I have a proposition for you. I mean, lawyers and lawsuits, getting rejected by every VC in the Valley. It’s sad. Neither of us want that, and we could work together to find a way out.” 

Richard scoffs, shaking his head. His fingers stop. “Yeah, easy, you could drop the fucking lawsuit.”

Gavin lets go of the fake smile, dropping the piece of fruit he had pinched between his fingers. “You know I can’t do that.” 

Richard rolls his eyes, and Jared can see his jaw twist in anger. “I didn’t steal Pied Piper from you, and you know it.” 

Gavin huffs out a little laugh, “Well that’s up to the courts to decide. And until they do, you're frozen. Meanwhile, my best engineers are working around the clock to get me a middle-out algorithm that surpasses yours. And in January when we have it and we come to market at CES,, you'll be dead. That is if you even survive that long with no funding. You lost, Richard. It's just business. So wouldn't you rather get something out of Pied Piper while you still can? Let me acquire you.” 

“What? No fucking way. Are you kidding me?” Richard says, shaking his head. 

Gavin snaps at Jared, holding out his hand for the acquisition deal he had Jared work up with legal. Jared looks at Richard — his demeanor is rigid, hands balled up into angry fists, but Jared can see the look in his eyes. He looks almost like a child, defenseless and vulnerable. Jared knows that look, he knows that look too well. He’s scared. “ _Jared_.” 

Jared looks away from Richard, pulling out the papers from his bag and handing them to Richard. He doesn’t look at him when he takes the papers. 

“We should have just done this the first time. I know you thought about it. It's the perfect fit. You get my infrastructure, I get your speed, and I get it today rather than in a month or two. What's the downside?”

“The downside is that everything I'm building becomes the property of your giant fucking soulless corporation!” Richard exclaims, throwing the papers on the table. Jared gasps softly at Richard’s outburst, pulling at the collar of his shirt. 

“And what exactly do you think you're building?” Gavin scoffs, shaking his head. “You're out there trying to get funding so you can hire people, scale up, roll out a product, IPO, and eventually become a publicly-traded what? _Corporation_.”

“We would be different,” Richard argues, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth. 

“I see. I suppose once Pied Piper is a billion-dollar company, you'll seek out your competitors and help them. Please. Let's face it. What is Hooli if not the best possible future version of Pied Piper? You think you're building something different? No. You're building something that's _exactly_ the same as what I've already built, except with you instead of me, but that's not possible now, Richard. But you know what is? We could build something together, you and me. Something great. _Something_ the world needs now. Look, I don't _have_ to do this. I'm just trying to do the right thing here.” Gavin picks up the papers from the table and hands them back to Richard. “So what do you say?” 

“You want to know what I say?” Richard says after a beat, his jaw twisting. Jared holds in a breath, _say no._

////

Richard looks at the papers in his hand as he chews on his bottom lip. He knows that Gavin is right. He’s got nowhere to turn at this point. But he can’t fucking do this. He can’t give away his work for nothing to Gavin Belson and his little worker drone. He can’t do it. 

But what other fucking choice does he have? Go bankrupt and lose Pied Piper anyway whether it be from court or from lack of funds? He’s out of fucking options. 

Gavin is looking at him expectantly, holding out a pen for him to take. He takes a second to look at Jared sitting next to him and is surprised to see Jared staring at him intently. When he sees he’s caught Richard’s eye he looks down at the papers and then back at Richard, giving him a small shake of his head. Richard suddenly thinks of Donald’s message to him that day. _Be Brave._

Richard looks down at the papers in his hands again, shaking his head. “No.” 

Gavin scoffs, “No? What the fuck do you mean ‘no’?” 

“I mean no. I won’t let you take Pied Piper,” Richard says. Richard catches Jared smiling subtly at him and he feels more empowered, ripping up the papers in his hands. “I’ll see you in court, Gavin.” 

Richard leaves the restaurant, heaving a huge breath of air when he gets outside before promptly vomiting onto the sidewalk. 

////

He feels out of place. He’s sure he looks out of place, too, in his ill fitting tux and crooked bowtie. He’s sure Monica thought that this would be a good idea — to bring him along as her date to some tech gala so he can hopefully schmooze some VCs into funding him — but doesn’t know if he’s ever been so uncomfortable in his fucking life. He feels like an animal at the zoo, being paraded around, stared at and whispered about. They all know his shame — broke and at the mercy of Gavin Belson. No one here was going to fund him.

Monica makes him make the rounds, shaking hands with the same people who had told him to go fuck himself like he has absolutely zero pride left. And maybe he doesn’t. Maybe this is just who he fucking is now — just a fucking dickhead begging for money from people that had spent the last week shitting on him. 

He’s about to tell Monica he’s ready to call it a night when he hears his name screamed across the hall. Richard jumps at the sound, spilling some of the drink in his hand onto his tux. 

“Shit. It’s Russ Hanneman,” Monica mutters. 

“Who?” Richard asks, watching Russ shove people out of his way to get to where he and Monica are standing. 

“Listen, Richard. This guy is a total fucking joke, okay? He is a boorish, pompous, womanizing douchebag who got lucky a million years ago putting fucking radio on the internet and hasn’t done anything since. You do _not_ want to do business with that man.” 

“You do—”

“Richard fucking Hendricks!” Russ booms, punching Richard lightly on the arm. “Do you know who I am?” 

“Um, I...You’re Russ Hanneman?” Richard says, looking at Monica. 

“Fuck yeah I am! And I am fucking interested in you.” Russ pokes at Richard’s chest with his finger, raising his eyebrows and winking. Upclose Richard can see that the black jacket he’s wearing is snakeskin. 

Richard furrows his brows, shifting from foot to foot. “Like, um, like romantically?” 

“No, what the fuck? No, interested in your business. Pied Piper. I want to do business with you, Richard. I want to back you.” 

“Oh, ha, right,” Richard laughs awkwardly, fidgeting with his fingers. “Um, you’re not worried about the lawsuit?” 

“Fuck no. I’ve got three nannies suing me right now — one of them for no fucking reason. C’mon, Richie, let’s make you a billion dollars, and me a billion more!” 

“That is a very enticing offer…” 

“Then let’s fucking do it! Let’s build whatever’s in that big genius brain of yours and then when we’ve each made a billion dollars, I’m gonna take you right back to those assholes at Hooli and shove you right up their assholes!” 

“Richard—” Monica whispers next to him. 

“What’s up, Russ Hanneman,” Russ says, turning all his attention to Monica. “You ever been in a McLaren? It’s doors open upwards, fucking billionaire doors. Mine was painted a specialty color, just for me. Why don’t we take a ride sometime?”

“No, thanks. I have a car,” Monica replies coldly. 

Russ stares for a minute before laughing loudly, pointing at Monica. “You two need another drink? What are you drinking? You know what it doesn’t matter, I made sure they had my speciality Tres Commas Tequila before I said I would come.”

Russ doesn’t wait for their answer before walking off towards the bar. 

“Jesus christ,” Monica sighs. “What a fucking asshole.” 

“Yeah...yeah, but he does want to fund us…” Richard mutters, chewing on his thumbnail. 

“Richard, what did I say to you?” 

“No, no, I know. I know he’s a fucking asshole, but no one else here is interested in investing _at all_ while Gavin Belson is around, and I’m out of options here. It’s either Russ or sell to Hooli,” Richard sighs, rubbing his eyes. 

“Maybe you should rethink the Hooli deal.”

“What the fuck, Monica? You would rather I turn over all my fucking hard work, completly sell out to Gavin fucking Belson —“

“Oh shit,” Monica interrupts him, wincing. “Shit, Richard, shut up.” 

Richard looks over to where Monica is and sees what she’s grimacing at. Gavin Belson across the hall, shaking hands with one of the partners at Coleman Blare, Jared Dunn right behind him. “Fuck, Monica. I don’t want to see them.”

“I know, I kno— Oh shit.” Monica grabs him by the arm, turns them around, and pushes them further into the room. 

“Did they see us? They saw us, didn’t they? And now it looks like we snubbed them. Did we just snub them?” 

“Richard, shut the fuck up and keep moving,” Monica whispers, but Richard isn’t listening. Instead he turns his head and finds himself locked eyes with Jared Dunn. 

“Shit.” Richard sees Jared whisper something into Gavin’s ear before he starts to stalk over to where he and Monica are trying to hide. 

He squeezes his eyes shut as he hears footsteps approaching them. “Hello, Richard.” 

Richard sighs, caught, and forces himself and Monica to turn around. “Jared.” 

“And Ms. Hall, always a pleasure to see you. You look stunning in that color, you are a true autumn,” Jared says, shaking Monica’s hand, smiling. The first thing Richard notices is that Jared, unlike himself, easily fits in with this crowd. His tux sculpts to his long frame in a way that should make him look gawky but doesn’t with a dark blue bow tie that makes his eyes shine. He looks annoyingly handsome with his perfectly parted haircut and his placating smile. He looks like he’s the one who should have Monica on his arm, schmoozing clients. 

It drives him fucking insane. It’s completly fucking unfair that not only is Jared playing a hand in his torturous demise, but he gets to look handsome and charming while doing it? What the fuck is this dude’s problem? Who the fuck does he think he is? 

“Just Monica, plea—“

“What the fuck do you want, Jared? Here to try to convince me to sell out to your megalomaniac piece of shit corporation?” Richard snaps, jaw tensing. 

Jared’s smile drops a little, “Not at all. I was just coming by to exchange pleasantries. No ulterior motives, I swear on the upturned grave of my foster mother.” 

“Well...good. That’s...good because you know there are still plenty of people who want to fund Pied Piper, some even in this room. And when we win our lawsuit and launch Pied Piper and make a fucking billion dollars they’re going to take me to Hooli and watch while I fucking fuck you!” 

Richard winces as soon as he says it. Jared’s doe eyes widen comically and he can hear Monica sigh next to him. 

“Oh, I...Well that is quite a vivid picture—“

“No, I didn’t mean...I wouldn’t like… I mean not without like your consent you know… it’s not what I meant— it sounded better when they said it...a very confident voice…” 

“Richard,” Monica whispers, laying a soft hand on his elbow. 

“No, yeah, I know.” 

“Well,” Jared starts, bewildered. “It was nice speaking with you, Richard. I truly wish you the best. Monica, always a pleasure.” 

He gives them one more infuriating smile before heading back down the hall to where Gavin has made his way to. 

“Nice one, Don Juan,” Monica says when he’s out of earshot. 

“God, fuck, him and Gavin and Hooli just make me so fucking angry like they just act like they are so above it all when the only reason they have power is because they leech off the backs of the actual people doing the work. I can’t let them win, Monica.”

“Richard, I know what you’re thinking, and I’m begging you please do not do this. There has to be another way.”

“Really? Because I’m not seeing it.” 

He doesn’t wait for Monica’s reply, stumbling through the crowd to where he sees Russ Hanneman chatting up some server. 

“Richie!” he says when he sees Richard standing awkwardly beside him.

“I’m in. Let’s build Pied Piper.” 

////

Jared has a notification waiting for him when he gets to the office the next morning. 

_Do you ever feel like you're on your way to becoming the worst possible version of yourself? Like there's this fucking Pandora’s Box in your chest full of your pride and your arrogance and your spite that is slowly little by little opening up? I feel like it’s happening to me, and I don’t know how to stop it. I’ve always been a little stubborn and a little too quick on the trigger, but not like this. I think I made a bad decision last night. Actually, I’m 90% sure I made a bad fucking decision last night that will probably fuck me over later._

_And I embarrassed myself. It happens more often than I would like it to, but last night it happened in front of the worst possible person imaginable. It’s like I get all in my head, get myself all worked up, and then tv static. For someone who prides himself on being so smart, I look like a complete fucking moron. Even now, thinking back on it, I can’t think of what I should have said to that fucking bottom dweller who is trying to ruin the one good thing in my life that would make me sound cool and confident. Maybe I never will be._

_Maybe I am destined to live in constant embarrassment and remorse, getting fucking shit on from every angle. Maybe I should just swallow my gigantic sense of pride and just fucking give up. People with no dignity left seem to be living much easier lives than I am._

  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> uhhh comments and kudos are always loved and welcomed!!!!!


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